Preservation Mode - The Wheelman

FOR CLOSE TO THIRTY MINUTES, WILCOXSON TAP-DANCED like a motherfucker. No, Evsei. Don’t kill the girl. Killing the girl will do nothing. No, Evsei, trust me. Put her on my bed. She’s better as bait, and Lennon will only go for it if she’s alive. You want Lennon, remember? The guy who killed your son. The only way you’re going to lure him out into the open is to use his girlfriend, and that only works if she’s alive.

Evsei, the crazy fucker, wanted to gut Katie with a steak knife right there in the apartment, then dump both bodies in front of Lennon before hoisting him onto a meat hook. A regular family reunion. The Russian was absolutely blood crazy. No wonder young Mikal had been so eager to strike out on his own.

Wilcoxson needed Katie alive. That was the only thing that mattered. He also needed to figure out a way to let Evsei take his revenge on Lennon—a walking dead man, anyway—and extricate Katie and himself from the situation. And then allow both of them to take an extended vacation without having to worry about looking over his shoulder the whole time. Unlike the pathetic Italian mob, the Russian mafiya had tentacles.

But Wilcoxson also needed that $650,000 recovered. Fieuchevksy knew nothing about his son’s plan to rob the bank robbers; in fact, he was still waiting for an explanation as to why his son was meeting with bank robbers in the first place.

So Wilcoxson whipped up a little speech.

“I made a few calls,” he told the Russian. “Your son was not involved in that bank robbery.”

Fieuchevsky’s eyes closed and his lips tightened.

“He was approached by one of the robbers—this Patrick Lennon—who presented your son with an investment opportunity. Lennon needed seed money to bankroll his next job, and your son gave him $10,000. In return, your son was promised six and a half times that amount—$65,000.”

“But,” Fieuchevsky started, “I gave him money.”

“The important thing to remember is that your son, Mikal, approached this as a business deal. He didn’t know he was dealing with a bank heister.”

“What did he need the money for?”

“Your son is the victim here. Remember that.”

“Didn’t I give him enough?”

“Evsei,” said Wilcoxson. “Listen to me. How would you like to kill this bank robber guy, and also make a lot of money in the process?”

This stopped the Mad Russian. He listened intently to Wilcoxson’s plan—the details spinning out on the spot.

To Wilcoxson’s surprise, he nodded.

“Good,” Wilcoxson said. “Let me get the tape recorder.”